Lyrics Александр Новиков Я не бывал в Монако 2008 - Цветочки
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Александр Новиков Я не бывал в Монако 2008 - Цветочки, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
Она цветочки продавала –
Простые радости земли.
А жизнь моя была – букет из серых дней.
Тянуло, как из поддувала
Меня на подвиги мои,
И повстречались как-то раз глазами с ней.
В душе шипели будто кобры
Денечки прежние мои,
Я покупал ее цветы и говорил,
Что я в душе разбойник добрый,
И что течет в моей крови
Огонь красивей тех цветов, что подарил.
Ах, эта жизнь – как книга с полки,
В которой вырваны всегда
Страницы глупостей больших и темных дел.
Их не выводят, как наколки
И не теряют, как года,
И как по-новой не пиши – слова не те.
Я говорил ей это с чувством,
Хоть по долгам не заплатил,
Что жизнь выходит напрямки, и – хорошо.
И только дождь урчал о грустном,
Когда в него я уходил.
А утром лязгнули замки, и срок пошел.
Я ваше одиночество
Попробую убить,
Мне с вами вечер хочется побыть.
Я отступать бессилен,
Пойдемте обнявшись –
Букета нет красивее, чем жизнь.
She sold flowers -
Simple joy of land.
And my life was - a bouquet of gray days.
Pulled how to confuse
Me on my feats
And they met somehime with her eyes with her.
In the soul hypeded as cobra
Denefi former mine
I bought her flowers and said
That I am in the soul of the robber,
And what flows in my blood
The fire is beautiful than those flowers that gave.
Ah, this life is like a book from the shelf,
In which always doried
The pages of stupidities of big and dark cases.
They do not bring them like a tag
And do not lose, as a year,
And as a new one, do not write - words are not.
I told her it with a feeling
Although the debts did not pay,
That life comes in direct, and - well.
And only the rain rushed about sad,
When I left it.
And in the morning there were locks, and the time went.
I am your loneliness
I'll try to kill
I want to be with you the evening.
I retreat powerless
Let's go hugging -
The bouquet is not more beautiful than life.
Simple joy of land.
And my life was - a bouquet of gray days.
Pulled how to confuse
Me on my feats
And they met somehime with her eyes with her.
In the soul hypeded as cobra
Denefi former mine
I bought her flowers and said
That I am in the soul of the robber,
And what flows in my blood
The fire is beautiful than those flowers that gave.
Ah, this life is like a book from the shelf,
In which always doried
The pages of stupidities of big and dark cases.
They do not bring them like a tag
And do not lose, as a year,
And as a new one, do not write - words are not.
I told her it with a feeling
Although the debts did not pay,
That life comes in direct, and - well.
And only the rain rushed about sad,
When I left it.
And in the morning there were locks, and the time went.
I am your loneliness
I'll try to kill
I want to be with you the evening.
I retreat powerless
Let's go hugging -
The bouquet is not more beautiful than life.